


Count The Brothers Nine

by rownthehabbitdole



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (2004), A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: But now it's a thing, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Other, This Was a Dare, nine count olafs, nine olafs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-01-08 07:49:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21232331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rownthehabbitdole/pseuds/rownthehabbitdole
Summary: AU where there are nine Count Olaf's. Because there are so many Olaf's, there are also more Baudelaires and Quagmires, (15 and 12 respectively) but they're really just minor characters in the lives of the Olaf's.This was a dare.I was dared.I came up with it as a joke and someone dared me to write it and now, here we are.Kill me please.Much love, y'all.I'd say enjoy, but I don't expect that to happen.





	1. Count The Brothers Nine

Count Olaf was not a man to be taken lightly.  
He was nasty and cruel, and although he was not extraordinarily smart, he was certainly able to work things out when he needed to.  
And what he really needed right now was to get revenge on the Baudelaires.   
Luckily enough, Olaf and his brothers were just now celebrating the death of the Baudelaire parents.   
That’s right, Olaf and his brothers, for Olaf was the oldest of nine boys, all of whom were now very drunk and very happy.   
“Beatrice and Bertrand are dead!” Cheered Olaf, wiping away the tears that had managed to slip down his cheeks, which he firmly decided were there only because he’d gotten some smoke in his eyes.   
“We’re going to be parents!” Jim, the next oldest brother, cheered in agreement.   
Jim wasn’t particularly mean spirited, like the rest of his brothers tended to be, but he was what a polite person would call not particularly intelligent. If you were not polite, which is to say if you were one of his brothers, he would be called a dumbass.   
He was correct, however, as all of the brothers were very aware that the Baudelaire children would soon be delivered into their custody, which would give them the chance to steal the Baudelaire fortune, although none of the rest of them were thinking of themselves as parents.   
Neil, the next of the brothers, took a deep swig from the bottle of wine he was holding and grinned, “Congratulations, everyone! We’ve done it at last,” And he sang a quick riff of a song he had just made up, because Neil was always in a singing mood.   
“So,” Harris, Neil’s twin, looked around at them with an eyebrow raised, “Who exactly was it who did this? I mean, it could’ve been-”  
“Not sure,” Neil shrugged, giving his twin a firm hug around the shoulders and sloshing a bottle of rum into his hand, “I mean, for all we know, it could’ve been you. But who cares who did it? All that matters is that the Baudelaires are dead.”  
The direct middle brother, Tim, shook his head. He didn’t smile like the others, not because he wasn’t happy but simply because smiling wasn’t really his thing, but his lips did curl into a smirk as he spoke, “Actually, what matters is that the Baudelaire children will soon be living under our roof,” He paused to take a sip of his drink, “And we need to start planning what all we’ll be doing with them.”   
“How many of them are there, anyway?” Asked Finn, the next brother, who was hanging upside down off the couch, drinking a beer and pulling scarves out of his sleeve.   
Humming to the tune of the riff Neil had sang and drumming on his knees, the next brother, Liam, turned to him with a laugh, “Fifteen. They have fifteen kids.”  
“Jesus, fuck,” Rolf, Liam’s triplet, choked on his drink, trying to swing down from the bar that he was hanging from but simply falling to the ground and spilling his drink on himself, “Rip to Beatrice, huh? Like, literally.”  
The rest of the brothers snorted, Liam and Rolf’s triplet and the last of the siblings, Puck, gesturing wildly as he spoke, like he always did, “The Baudelaires really are a family lineage of bunny rabbits, aren’t they? Not too surprised that those two managed to have that many kids.”  
Two of the brothers were silent, thinking about the lineage of some of the children, while the rest laughed at their youngest brother, recounting old stories with Beatrice and Bertrand.   
It was Tim who finally broke them off of their revelry, waving to his brothers to pay attention to him, “Alright everyone, we need to think about the Baudelaire children, and what we’re going to do with them. Let’s go through all the children, someone grab the files.”  
Jim grabbed the folders of information, handing them out to his brothers and opening the first one, “The oldest is sixteen. Her name is Violet, and this says that she likes to make practical inventions to help people. That sounds so nice, doesn’t it? Oh! And she ties her hair up with a ribbon when she needs to think, just like her father used to.”  
They ignored his commentary and just focused on the name and age, Neil looking at the next file, “Next is another girl, Lilac. She’s fifteen, she likes mechanical work too. Then she has a twin brother, Kai, who likes programming and seems to be freakishly tall. What the hell is programming?”  
“Computer stuff,” Tim explained, dismissive, “Move on.”  
“There’s another boy, Klaus,” Harris read from his file, “Has bad eyesight, seems like a little nerd, apparently does a lot of research. We’ll have to look out for his smarts, but I don’t think we’ll have any trouble with him being too rebellious. He has a twin sister too, Petunia. She seems to be pretty sporty, weirdly opposite of her twin. Her eyesight is perfect, and her hair is blonde, unlike most of them.”  
Finn went next, “Then there’s Lavender, she likes to take photos, she’s twelve. Smaller than most of them. Actually,” He paused, frowning at the file, “Actually, she’s a triplet, and all three of them are smaller than most of their siblings. It’s her and two boys. There’s Nick, who writes, apparently, and Kellan, who likes to dance.”  
“What kind of writing?” Tim asked, at just the same time that Harris asked, “What kind of dancing?”  
“Any type, I think,” Finn shrugged, “The writer and the dancer both. Nick is especially fond of reading stories about adventures, it seems, so I’d guess that he would like to be an adventurer, and write about that. Kellan is best at tap and jazz, but apparently is also proficient in ballet, contemporary, lyrical, Irish step dancing, breakdancing, and some others.”  
Tim and Harris nodded as Liam read the next, “Okay, more twins. Colin, god, that’s close to Kellan, apparently someone didn’t have much naming originality by the millionth kid, Colin is eleven, and he’s apparently big into literature. Don’t ask me what kind, I don’t know and I probably don’t care, but he wears glasses, and he looks like the type of kid that reads old, dorky classics. His twin is Iris, who invents like Violet does, but it seems like her creations are a lot more out there. No efficiency, just silly stuff. Here, look, there’s a picture of a grandfather clock that she modified to make toast.”  
The boys laughed, Rolf peering into his folder, “Okay, there’s a big age jump now, but they’ve got twin toddlers, Sensible and Solitude.”  
“God,” Olaf scoffed, “Those sound like the types of names they’d give their kids. Let me guess, are both of their middle names Theodora?”  
“Yeah, they are, actually,” Rolf skimmed quickly through the words, “Sensible seems to like playing games, real games, like poker and stuff. Solitude, despite her name, is very friendly, and likes snakes and lizards and other amphibians like-”  
“Reptiles.”  
“What?” Rolf snapped, looking around at the others.  
It was Jim, strangely enough, who said simply, “Lizards and snakes are reptiles. She probably likes amphibians too, but they’re not the same thing.”  
The brothers stared at Jim, who shrugged and busied himself with peeling the label off of his bottle.   
“He’s right, actually,” Puck chuckled, and then he started reading the final folder, “Okay, to bring it to the end, there are some triplet babies. Their middle names are all Theodora too, before you ask. So there’s Saffron, who likes astronomy-is that the study of asteroids?”  
“Of space,” Finn corrected, “So that’s part of it, but no, it’s not the specific study of asteroids. She probably likes looking at stars and stuff.”  
Nodding, Puck continued, “There’s Skeptical, god, what a name. In spite of her name, according to this, she’s the most naive and trusting of all the kids. That’s gonna be useful, huh? She likes music. And the last one is Sunny, she likes to play chef. And all three of these girls have really sharp teeth, which is terrifying, because they’re literal babies and I’m honestly not even sure if they’re old enough to have teeth at all yet, much less very sharp teeth.   
“Well,” Neil shuddered, “We’ll just have to try not to get bitten, I guess.”  
“Do we even have room for that many people in the house?” Liam asked, counting bedrooms in his mind.  
“Sure,” Puck chuckled, “We’ll just give them one bedroom.”  
Frowning, Olaf shook his head just a little, “I don’t think we can do that,” And when they all turned to stare at him, wondering when he became so soft, he amended quickly, “I mean god, that’d be fun, I just literally don’t think we have a room that we can squeeze fifteen kids into.”  
“Good point,” Tim paused, considering this for a moment, “There are those two rooms side by side that have a door between them. We can give them those. It’ll be a tight fit, but that’ll just make it all the more entertaining.”   
The brothers nine nodded to each other and continued on in their drunken revelry, not bothering to spend any more time worrying about the Baudelaire children.   
Not spending any more time worrying about the Baudelaire children out loud, that is.   
In truth, all nine of the brothers were thinking very deeply about what would happen once the Baudelaires were in their clutches.  
Puck was thinking to himself about the Baudelaire parents, about all the stories he’d heard about the fateful opera night. He was there himself, of course, at the theatre, but he was in the show alongside Beatrice and had been backstage at the time. All he really knew was that he and his brothers had been betrayed, and that meant it was their job to get revenge.  
Rolf was stretching, trying for the seventh time to teach himself how to do the splits, and he thought about the days of their childhood. The days when he had a crush on Bertrand, who wasn’t a Baudelaire yet but would be eventually, the days when they’d been best very nearly best friends. And then, after he thought about that, he thought about the fact that Bertrand and Beatrice’s children would be living with them. He wondered if any of the boys would be as soft and lovely as Bertrand had been, and he continued to drink his bottle of gin.   
Liam thought about each of the children individually, and then he thought about the three youngest girls, the triplets. How had Beatrice come to have triplets? They didn’t run on either side of the family, he knew that. Perhaps there was more to the Baudelaires than he really considered, although he was doubtful of that, because they knew far too much about the Baudelaires.   
Finn was laying down in his box, which he had dragged into the living room, the magicians one where he could cut someone in half. He chugged three juice boxes and then continued drinking his beer. What would happen to the kids once they got their fortune? Would they just get rid of them? That would be the easiest, that was for certain.   
Tim was daydreaming, an incredibly rare occurrence, but it was a daydream about suffering, which balanced it out. The children, the Baudelaire children, they would belong to the nine brothers soon. And when they did, when they were in their custody, Tim and his brothers could do whatever they wanted to the Baudelaires. It was their right, after all, to get true revenge on the Baudelaires.   
Harris was very drunk, and was dancing on top of a table, but he felt very good as he did so. At least, he wanted to feel very good. He was focusing very hard on ignoring the impending Baudelaires, but unfortunately for him, Harris was not very good at focusing. He thought about the Baudelaires, about the way that his brother had sobbed after the opera night, eventually managing to turn that crying into pure and agonizing anger. He owed it to his brother to help in their plot against the Baudelaires, whatever may happen, but he hoped ever so slightly that they wouldn’t hurt the children too badly.   
Neil thought about his ex girlfriend, ex fiance, in fact. He thought about the meddling of the Baudelaire parents, and thought about the fact that ever since then, he had wondered if he would feel true love again. He doubted it, quite sincerely.   
Jim was excited, on many different levels. His primary excitement was, of course, the idea of possessing the Baudelaire fortune. He wondered how they would split it up, wondered what they spend it on, wondered if his brothers would finally stop being so _angry_ all the time. And below that, although he knew he couldn’t really talk to his family about it, he was thrilled at the idea of the Baudelaire children living with them. He knew he was supposed to hate the Baudelaires, and he did, he really did, but it was the parents who had harmed them, not the children. Didn’t they deserve a better life than their mother and father did?_  
And Olaf?  
Olaf surveyed all of his younger brothers, and thought quite simply, “Perhaps now, we’ll be enough.”_


	2. Meet The [Terrible Guardians]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd say enjoy, but that's unlikely  
I still hate this AU   
Let's go 
> 
> Also, warning, remember, this is a Nine Olaf AU, so think of the general creepiness of Olaf towards the kids (Violet, specifically) and multiply that by Nine. 
> 
> Have a good one folks   
Comment and stuff (I can't hype up this story too much I mean I wanna hear y'all's thoughts I just hate this story)  
Much love

“Who’s at the window watching?” Olaf called through the old house, throwing mud around the main living room to make it look messier.

Puck, who was going over the files of the fifteen Baudelaire children to make sure he knew them all, yelled back, “Rolf and Neil are up there. Rolf thought he could hang above the window and look out, but he got stuck, so Neil is trying to help him down.”

Sighing, Olaf nodded, “Sounds about right. Liam, how are the stairs?” 

Liam was pacing up and down the grand staircase, occasionally pausing to adjust the boards on a step so they would squeak loudly when walked on, “Pretty good. They should have a constant headache with these.”

“Should I put out the beheaded doll?” Finn asked, looking at the old collection of books and toys from when the brothers were children. 

Chuckling from where he was in the children’s bedrooms, tap dancing across the mattresses they’d laid out for the children to try and make them less comfortable, Harris called out, “Oh please, definitely do that. The little brats will get so freaked out.”

Jim, who was working on adjusting the portrait of the Nine brothers together with the Baudelaire parents, paused and looked up, “How do you know they’ll be brats? They’re our responsibility now! It’s our job to take care of them, not insult them. Unless they do deserve it… do they?” 

“They do,” Tim growled at his brother, “And take that infernal picture down. You can’t even see anyone in it, we’re all submerged under the water. It looks like a photograph of a lake, not of us.”

“I like it,” Jim pouted, straightening the photo up just a little more, “It was a simpler time.”   
“Every time is a simpler time when you’re around,” Olaf snickered. 

“I think they’re coming,” Neil screamed down the tower stairs, and they heard a loud thump, presumably the sound of Rolf hitting the floor, immediately following. 

The Nine brothers scrambled to the ground floor and hid in the shadows, all but Tim, who stood right in front of the door, a serpent waiting to strike.

“They were talking to the Strauss lady, I think,” Rolf informed them, and then they all grew silent at Tim’s hushing. 

When Mr. Poe, the banker in charge of the affairs of the Baudelaire orphans, knocked on the door, Tim merely reached forward and gave the handle a twist, pushing it open just enough to let the outsiders know that someone was there. 

Mr. Poe, a rather curious and annoying banker who always had a cough, opened the door the rest of the way himself when he saw this. “Oh my,” He took in the appearance of Tim, who was standing so close to them now that the Baudelaire children each took a slight step back, “So sorry, we saw the door opening and…”   
“Oh welcome, welcome,” Tim broke out a harsh and predatory smile, his eyes glittering, “We’re so happy to have you.”   
He took a slow step backwards and his brothers took slow steps forward, appearing from the darkness like smoke.

Olaf grinned, moving to shake hands with Poe, “Hello. I am Count Olaf, and these are my brothers. We’re very happy to have you here. Please take off your shoes as you enter, we wouldn’t want any mud getting tracked in.”   
The brothers snickered quietly to themselves, and as the Baudelaire children entered they saw just how absurd this was. The room was the filthiest they had ever seen, and a little bit of mud from their shoes would hardly have added to that. 

Still, the Baudelaires were polite, and so they merely nodded in agreement and wiped their shoes off quickly. 

“How do you do?” Asked Violet Baudelaire, the eldest of the children, “I’m Violet Baudelaire, and these are my siblings.” 

None of the children moved to greet the Brothers, and none of the Brothers moved to greet the children. 

Finally, Mr. Poe cleared his throat, “Forgive my rudeness, but this room appears to need a little work.”

“It’s a bit more humble than the Baudelaire mansion,” Neil agreed.

Harris finished for him, smiling warmly enough, although it didn’t quite reach his eyes, “But perhaps with a bit of the children’s fortune, we can fix it up.”

“Oh no,” Mr. Poe shook his head most fervently, looking surprised, “The Baudelaire fortune is not to be used for such matters. Indeed, it’s not meant to be used at all, until the eldest child comes of age.” 

Violet looked slightly perturbed by this, as she was the oldest by a good amount and Mr. Poe knew her name, but if she felt upset she did not voice it. 

“Of course, of course,” Finn said smoothly, “And that would be Miss Violet here, would it not?”

Mr. Poe frowned, deep in thought, “I suppose it would. I think… Oh! Look at the time, I really must be heading to work. Sorry to be so abrupt, children, I hope that all of you find a lot of happiness here. Remember, you’re always free to contact me at Mulctuary Money Management if you need my assistance.”

“But we don’t know where the bank is,” Klaus said, looking confused.

“We have a map, don’t worry,” Rolf assured, and he helped his Brothers usher Mr. Poe out the door.

_ Slam _ .

And then, finally, the Baudelaires were alone with the Counts. 

They all stared at each other for a few moments, silence overtaking the room, before Violet finally spoke again, “I’m sorry, but we don’t know all of your names. Mr. Poe could only remember Count Olaf. Do you, um, do you know all of our names?”

As Tim observed the children, one of his eyebrows lifted with a question, although he did not ask anything, “There are supposed to be more of you.”

“Did the idiot banker lose some of them?” Finn asked, chuckling quietly, counting them out himself, “Why, you’re almost in half! Where are the other six of you?”

For you see, there were only nine Baudelaires who had entered the dreadful house. 

In fact, there were only nine Baudelaires left. 

“We’re all there is,” Klaus said simply, and as he spoke he came to the sudden and frightening realization that he was now the second oldest. 

“Fire,” Sunny Baudelaire said sagely, looking at her siblings sadly. 

Jim knelt down to the level of Sunny, along with the four other smallest Baudelaire siblings, frowning, “That’s very sad, I’m sorry. I know that if I were to lose my brothers, I would be most distraught. We didn’t realize that your siblings were lost in the fire alongside your parents.”

Solitude toddled forward and patted Jim gently on his long nose, nodding sorrowfully.

The Brothers looked at each other for a moment, Liam clearing his throat and tugging Jim to his feet, “Well, introduce us to those of you who are here, then.” 

Violet nodded, unsure of herself but determined to be the role model that her siblings needed, “Well, like I said, I’m Violet. This is Klaus, and that’s Nick, and that’s-”

She was cut off by her younger sister, the most flamboyant of the elder Baudelaire siblings, “I am Iris April Malina Baudelaire, and I have two middle names instead of one.”

Harris and Neil exchanged glances and Puck chuckled as Violet continued, “Yes, sorry, Iris likes to introduce herself. Then those two are Solitude and Sensible, and the three youngest are Sunny, Saffron, and Skeptical.” 

“Well, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Olaf said quickly, and his eyes glimmered like he was thinking of some joke that the children didn’t know, “Well, as I said, I am Count Olaf. These are my brothers, Count Jim, Count Neil, Count Harris, Count Tim, Count Finn, Count Liam, Count Rolf, and Count Puck. We hope to be like the fathers you children never had.”

“We had a father,” Klaus said.

“Several, between the lot of you,” Jim said quietly, and Finn swatted him on the arm to keep him from giving anything away. 

“Yes, you did,” Finn agreed, “And a mother, too.”

“She was a remarkable woman,” Tim added.

Puck nodded, “Quite. Flammable.”

Nick and Klaus exchanged unsure looks and the five smaller Baudelaire sisters huddled closer to each other. 

The light in the room seemed to shift, and suddenly the children saw the ankles of the nine Brothers.

Now normally, of course, one’s ankles are not all that interesting to look at, unless of course you happen to be an ankle doctor, or if you happen to have no ankles and are admiring them out of jealousy. In this case, however, the children were looking at the ankles of their new guardians because each of the Brothers had a tattoo of an eye on their ankle. 

The same eye that was inscribed on the door of the house, and in fact all over the house.

The same eye that was on the cylinder that the children had found in the wreckage of the Baudelaire Mansion, which now sat heavily in Klaus’s pocket. 

“Shit,” Sensible whispered, eyes wide as she looked at the ankles in front of her. 

“Language,” Violet scolded quickly, lifting Sensible up and onto her hip, although much worse words were running through her mind even as she said this. 

The Brothers noticed the noticing and exchanged looks, trying to avoid chuckling at the children’s expressions. 

“Well,” Olaf grinned, “We’ll show you all around the house, and then we’ll give you your first list of chores.”   
Frowning, Nick looked up at him thoughtfully, “Chores?”   
“Yes, chores,” Neil sneered.

Harris nodded, “As rich children I’m sure you didn’t do many of those, but-”   
“They build character,” Rolf finished, and then he paused and took a step closer to Klaus, “You know, you look just like your father.”

“We often helped around the house, actually,” Iris said, wondering if there was any invention that she and Violet could make that would get rid of this overwhelming amount of grossness in the house. 

Klaus looked unsure of himself but smiled just a little, “Do I really look like my father?”

Nodding, Rolf’s hand stretched out as if he was going to stroke Klaus’s face, pausing just before and pulling himself back, “Yes, very much so.”

Puck placed a hand on Rolf’s shoulder, holding him in place, but he nodded as well, the rest of the Brothers examining Klaus’s face for just a moment before murmuring in agreement. 

Although there was nothing particularly unusual about this, a strange and sinister energy flowed through the Baudelaire children as they followed their new guardians up the stairs. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you alright, Rolf?” Jim asked as the Brothers Nine sat together in their tower room, the door shut tightly. 

“I just,” Rolf paused, sighing deeply, “I didn’t expect him to look so much like Bertrand.” 

The others froze, just a little.

This was a taboo subject.

They didn’t talk about the Baudelaire parents,  _ any  _ of the Baudelaire parents. 

Or if they did, not in such a gentle tone, such a longing tone, such a soft, soft tone. 

Shaking his head, Rolf seemed to snap out of his thoughts suddenly, “I mean, I just, um, I just mean he’s a good looking boy, huh? That’ll be nice to have around, won’t it?”

The others nodded at that, finally, and Liam chuckled, “I actually think that Nick kid is better looking. Did you see him? He’s gonna grow into a handsome man, that’s for sure.”

“If he lives that long,” Finn snickered, practicing a disappearing quarter trick as he spoke. 

“Speaking of living that long,” Olaf muttered, leaning forward and gesturing vaguely to the corner where Jim had wandered off and was whistling loudly as he flipped through an old scrapbook, “Do you all really think that he’s going to be able to…”

“I think he’ll follow through,” Harris said quickly, although he didn’t entirely believe it, “He may be a dumbass, but he knows what they did to us. He wants their fortune as much as any of the rest of us.”

Neil hummed to himself, looking unsure, “He wants their fortune, yeah, but I think he also really wants to be their guardian. I think he believes that once we have the fortune in our hands we’re just going to…” 

“To raise the children with the money provided to us?” Rolf nodded, “I think so too.”

The eight Brothers mused on this as they watched Jim, smiling brightly and occasionally practicing mirroring the faces of the pictures in the scrapbooks. 

After a while of thinking, Tim finally spoke up, his voice a low, velvety growl, “I think he can be taught the proper way. But just in case he can’t, we should have a contingency plan in place.” 

“What do you do to get rid of someone efficiently, without making it obvious that it was done on purpose?” Puck wondered aloud.

“Is this a riddle?” Jim asked, and the others jumped as they realized that he had entered their circle once more.

“Fuck,” Finn shook his head to clear out the adrenaline that coursed through him suddenly, patting the chair next to him and letting Jim sit down, “What are you talking about?”

Jim shrugged, fiddling aimlessly with the cuffs of his sleeves, “You guys were talking, and then you asked about how you get rid of someone without making it obvious that you did it on purpose. I just figured you were talking about a riddle.” 

Tim’s lips curled upwards as he looked at his older brother, “Oh, how correct you were. Tell us, what do you think the answer to the riddle is?” 

Grinning, Jim nodded, “I think I really know it! I think what you’d do is put them in a car and then park the car on some train tracks, and head out. Is that it?”

The others held in laughter, but Tim and Olaf made steady eye contact, communicating with each other silently, and Olaf finally turned to Jim quite happily, “Oh yes, that’s an  _ excellent  _ answer.” 

“I got it right!” Jim crowed, excitement coursing through him at the thought of being as smart as his brothers, at the thought of being able to answer riddles just as easily as they could. 

Unfortunately for Jim, the true answer to this riddle was not really an answer at all, but another question. 

_ Just how far do the limits of our loyalty go?  _


End file.
